The Lonely Year
by yourtypicalfangirl
Summary: John finds himself wanting to end his life after his dear friend and lover, Sherlock Holmes, commits suicide. But after a strange turn of events John begins to question everything he knows and comes to a shocking conclusion.


_"Better to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there."_

The sky fades into a haunting shade of crimson and black. My body turns as numb as the gaping hole in my chest. '_It'll all be over soon' _I whisper, '_It'll all be over soon_.'

A storm of paramedics rush the gurney through to awaiting doctors and nurses. The first paramedic urgently passes a clipboard to a man in a long white coat.

"We have an unconscious white male, late 30s, showing symptoms of heavy drug abuse who sustained severe head trauma after falling 30 feet out of a window. Blood pressure is 80/50 and falling, respiratory rate 8/60 and slowing, body temperature 76 and decreasing rapidly. Witnesses say he was unconscious when he fell, but the patient does have a history of multiple suicide attempts."

"Doctor, heart beat decreasing rapidly." A nurse announces hastily. The monitor beeps slower with every fading beat, "Down to 30… 25… 20-"

"Patient is going into cardiac arrest," a male doctor announces, "prepare a defibrillator."

The heart monitor slows to a steady stream, "Push 1 mg of Epinephrine and charge to 200 joules." The nurse scrambles accordingly. He places the paddles on the man's chest. "Clear!" Everyone steps back as he discharges the shock. The man's back is lifted off the gurney, but the monitor is still flat. "Don't give up on us now." The doctor demands, "Clear for 2." A second shock is sent to the patient's heart.

"Rhythm is 20 and rising rapidly," says the nurse after a few agonizing seconds.

"Fantastic, get him to the ICU stat. Contact any next of kin." They rush the gurney down a long white hallway.

Some spend their entire lives running from death. Today I prepared to greet the end with arms open wide, just as I would greet you on the other is the only thing I can control.

Three days, that is how long I have been kept hostage in this prison. The wardens won't even allow me to use forks, let alone knives. Apparently I'm 'hazardous to my own well being,' tell me something I don't know. To my distaste Molly has visited me every day, but after what happened to you she barely talks to me, or anyone for that matter. Something about her makes my blood boil. She's hiding something from me, something very important. She used to be so kind and so innocent; but now she won't even look at me. She is cold and distant. Her once soft refreshing smile has to turn to stone. The woman who I wanted to confide in in my darkest hour was now a stranger in my home. I turned to alcohol to sooth the pain, it helped for a while. Until being drunk wasn't enough, turns out meth is much better at making you forget who you are.

I turn to the open window, the sweet stench of rain floods into my body. A little more relaxed I ask, "What do you want?" There is no response. I ask again, "What do you want from _me_?"

"John…" Molly says timidly, "This has to stop. You can't go off and do something like that again…" She pauses and lets out a long sigh. "You need to understand that he's _never_ coming back. He _can't_ come back." I turn to face her. Her guilty expression catches me by surprise.

"No." I insist, "He _is_ coming back. He _will _come back to me!"

"Sweetie…" She walks across the hospital room and places her cold hand on my arm. I can tell she is trying to kind, but the ever growing secrets in her eyes make me pull away. "John…" Molly says folding her arms, "He's dead. End of story. You're in a fairy tale, snap out of it and come back to reality. He can't come back, he just can't!"

She tries to turn away but I grab her arm in anger. Why won't she understand? I need you here. I need to be with you. But she's constantly pushing me, constantly nagging me to move on. My grasp tightens. Why can't she see? Why can't she bloody see?

"I'm sorry.. I'm just trying to help, please. I don't mean to be rude. He told me to-"

"God damn it Molly! Shut up!"

I throw my hand towards her ghost white cheek. The rush of power shoots through my body. I could beat her till she turned black and blue, till every meaningless bone in her body was crushed to splinters, then and only then would she feel half of the pain in my heart. Chaos is the only thing I can control. If I cannot control my own actions, let alone my own feelings, I can damn well control somebody else's. Why won't she help me? I thought I could trust her. But that was long ago, long before you abandoned me on this stupid planet. Nothing works. Not pills, guns, drugs, nothing works to ease the pain. I can't even die. _Why can't I just die already?_

When I wake Molly is nowhere to be found. A nurse must have come in and refilled my morphine drip, most likely at Molly's request. As I turn my head towards the window, something strange catches my eye. _Maybe it's just the morphine messing with my mind_. I blink but the image does not change. Strewn across the arm of the cold hospital chair is a long navy blue scarf, your scarf.


End file.
